Beyond Definition
by Mizvoy
Summary: One possible conclusion to the story "Ties That Bind." I suggest you read that story first (it is available on my profile page). In this universe, J and C never get together after Voyager's return and, as their lives come to an end, their daughter, Olivia, struggles to understand their unusual relationship. J and C friendship. No C/7 here. Warning! Main character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

Beyond Definition

By mizvoy

Summary: One possible conclusion to the story "Ties That Bind." I suggest you read that story first. In this universe, J and C never get together after Voyager's return and, as their lives come to an end, their daughter, Olivia, struggles to understand their unusual relationship. J and C friendship. No C/7 here. Warning! Main character deaths.

A/N: This story begins thirty-five years after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant. The first scene occurs about a year after Chakotay's death at age 85 and is followed by annual conversations for five years (2414-18).

Spring 2414 Indiana, the Janeway homestead

For mid-May, the Indiana sun was cool, its heat tempered by a layer of clouds, so Kathryn Janeway retreated to the farmhouse's screened porch and watched her grandson play catch with his father. She and her daughter, Olivia, were wrapped in fleece blankets, and Kathryn nursed a cooling cup of coffee.

"Dad would love to be out there playing catch," Olivia observed. "But, he would have already devised a competition, like how many tosses they could make before someone drops the ball, just to make it more fun. Wouldn't he?"

"Probably," her mother replied.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, I am. Chakotay would love to be playing catch and would already have a competition in place."

"That's it?"

Kathryn frowned. "I'm pretty sure that's all you said."

"I mean, you have no further comment about Dad?"

"You wanted a comment?" She shifted to study her daughter's face for a moment. "He was a fun guy to have around?"

Olivia huffed, tossing the blanket aside and standing up. "That's all you have to say? He was fun to have around?"

Kathryn carefully placed the mug on the side table, gathered the blanket around her shoulders, and joined her daughter at the porch railing, sliding her arm around the younger woman's waist. "Is something bothering you today?"

"It's . . . it's your birthday and you're eighty years old. I've already lost Dad—"

"And you think I must be on death's door, too?"

Olivia sighed. "Death is so final. It means that all the unanswered questions are going to haunt me forever."

"So ask the questions. If I know the answers, I'll tell you."

"I wish that were true."

"I'll tell you what I know." At Olivia's silence, she continued, "Your father told me a great deal about his life over the years, maybe some things he never shared with you."

"My questions aren't about his childhood or his early years in Starfleet. Not even Voyager, really, or after."

"Then what?" Kathryn wondered, noticing the blush on her daughter's cheeks. "Let me guess. You want to ask about our relationship."

"Don't dismiss this this the way you always do, Mother. I know all kids from non-nuclear families want their parents to be together as a family unit, but I gave up on that dream years ago."

"So you say."

"It bugs me that I'm different. That our family is different. I need to work through all of this while I still have one of you to talk with about it."

"'Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.'" Kathryn gazed into the distance, the Tolstoy quote hanging between them. "There were never any secrets kept from you, sweetie. Your father and I discussed your conception with you, and we both believed that we had told you everything that there was to know, everything you needed to know, to understand what happened." She shivered and returned to the swing, where a heat vent in the floor moderated the cold. "Ask me anything."

"Did you ever love him?" Olivia kept her back to her mother, as if her question were too personal or an invasion of privacy for her to ask. "And I don't mean on Quarra. I know you loved him there."

"She loved him there. That Kathryn was passionately in love with your father."

The younger woman's temper flared. "She was you."

"No, she wasn't."

"She was elementally you."

"No, she wasn't." Kathryn picked up her coffee and stared into it, unwilling to taste it when it was so obviously cold and bitter. "I can understand why you think we were the same person. You've seen the pictures, read the logs that The Doctor salvaged. She looked like me. She had my scientific knowledge. Her personality and sense of humor were very close to mine.

"But people are the sum total of their experience, Olivia, and most of what makes me who I am, who I was then, had been neatly erased from my memory. And the same was true for your father."

The hunching of Olivia's shoulders revealed her tension. "Dad told me he loved you."

"Did he?" The silence between them stretched until Kathryn had to continue. "I suppose we shared a special type of love, beyond definition. He was my best friend, the one person I knew would do everything in his power to keep from letting me down. And I would rather die than disappoint him. I loved him in the same way."

"But no passion?"

"You're talking about physical love. Romantic love. Intercourse." Kathryn waited, hoping for some sort of response, but getting none. "Do you want to discuss the different kinds of love? Or can I just say that I loved him for who he was, as much as I could, no questions asked? No demands made?" She scowled into the coffee mug, wishing she could escape to the kitchen for a refill.

"He said that Quarra ruined your chances for a future together, that what happened on the planet and the struggle over my birth drove a wedge between you that could never be overcome."

Kathryn caught her breath, but then, after a moment of consideration, shook her head. "He didn't tell you that."

"I beg your pardon?" Her daughter turned and gave her a look that was so much her own "glare" that Kathryn had to bite back a smile.

"This is your guilt talking, I think, Olivia."

"He wrote about it in his logs."

"Ah, and that's where he 'told' you, in his logs. His private musings." She frowned, imagining what he might have written. "No doubt he ranted and raved about our predicament after Quarra, especially before Voyager returned to Earth. But we worked through those problems, and there was no lasting resentment from them. We truly put all that behind us once we were home and enjoyed parenting you together."

"You don't know what he wrote, Mother."

"I have a pretty good idea. I know that we write many things as we think through a problem, things that we sort through. The one thing I can tell you, without hesitation, is that it had no lasting impact on our relationship, not ultimately. Put that assumption to rest." She toyed with the fringe on the blanket. "What happened on Quarra was not real; it wasn't your father who fell in love with me. I wasn't the woman who fell in love with your father. We remembered none of it, so, in reality, it didn't happen. What happened there couldn't affect our 'chances,' as you call it."

"It did happen, I'm proof of that, and the struggle about me, that was real, too."

"Oh, it was real, all right." Kathryn frowned, pushing aside the bitter memories of those months that she and Chakotay fought so hard about whether to proceed with the pregnancy. "It was just one of many confrontations. We argued about many things and got past them, found common ground."

"What happened out there made it impossible for you and Dad to be together, right? Your fight over having me ended any chance you had."

Kathryn stood up. "I need some hot coffee."

"First, answer the question."

"Inside. Let me refill my coffee." In the kitchen, Kathryn busied herself with the routine of preparing her signature drink, measuring and grinding the coffee beans, heating the water, using the coffee press to fill her insulated mug. After a deep draft of the fresh brew, she sat down at the table, still lost in thought.

Olivia watched, realizing that her mother was considering what she should say, what to tell her daughter about her father. She sat down across from her and waited.

"I was twenty-three when my father died," Kathryn started, without explanation. "I thought I knew all about my parents' relationship. After all, I'd lived with them for most of my life, I'd seen them deal with all sorts of challenges, I'd heard them argue and make up dozens of times. But I quickly realized, as I watched my mother grieve over his death, that I actually knew very little of their reality, of their silent understandings, their compromises, their marital ethic." She reached forward and squeezed her daughter's hand. "How much harder it must be for you to understand Chakotay and me, when you had so few chances to see us together."

"I saw you plenty."

"Yes, and you saw how deep our friendship was, how well we worked together and found common ground. Focus on that, not Quarra. You must put Quarra aside."

"That's where I was conceived."

"Physically, yes, but the people who conceived you don't exist. They never did. They were an aberration."

"But—"

"No, sweetie, no 'buts.' What happened after we left Quarra didn't 'ruin our chances' any more than all of the other trials and challenges we went through in the Delta Quadrant. That argument was more personal, more emotional, but it was also just more—more of the same sort of conflict we worked through all the time."

"So, if you hadn't been caught in the Delta Quadrant? There would have been a chance that you would have been together?"

"Probably not. Your father was Maquis and I was Starfleet. I would have arrested him and taken him to prison."

"So, without his time in the Maquis, then?"

"I was engaged to be married when I met Chakotay."

"So, if you hadn't been engaged?"

"Stop!" Kathryn laughed out loud. "Don't you see how ridiculous this is?"

Olivia buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled as she said, "Can't you please just give me a straight answer?"

"I'm doing the best I can. We cared about each other deeply, truly, the way committed, intimate friends love each other. But the very experiences that drew us to each other as friends also made it impossible for us to be a couple in the way that you, our child, would want us to be."

Olivia stared at her in disbelief. "The answer can't be both 'yes' and 'no,' Mother."

"But that, my darling girl, is what the answer is."

Olivia brought her fist down on the table and then stood, turning to leave the house without a single word. When her mother saw her join her family in their backyard play, she rubbed her forehead and decided that it would be a good idea to take something for the headache that was blooming behind her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Spring 2415 in San Francisco, Kathryn Janeway's office

"How old was I when Dad and Seven broke up for good?"

Kathryn Janeway looked up from her desk to find her daughter striding through the door with a near-panicked Lt. Jones in pursuit.

"The admiral is expecting an important call, Olivia," the lieutenant was explaining as she trailed behind. "If you could just take a seat in the outer office—"

"It's all right, Mary," Kathryn said, waving her aide away. She could see that Olivia was upset and needed to talk. "Take a message. I can call him back after Olivia and I finish talking."

"Yes, Admiral." She gave Olivia an exasperated look and then returned to the front office, closing the door behind her.

Kathryn closed down the report she'd been reviewing and studied the woman standing in front of her, thinking that she had regressed from the thirty-year-old married artist to a cranky thirteen-year-old with an attitude. "Is this something we need to discuss right this minute?"

"I just have a couple of questions."

"Sit over there." She pointed at the sofa and coffee table. "I'll get some fresh coffee. Do you want anything?"

"Just honest answers, for a change." Olivia perched on the edge of the sofa cushion as if she would soil her clothing if she relaxed. She ignored the glint of anger in her mother's eyes.

"Is this rant because of your father's personal logs? Didn't Starfleet release the last of them to you a few days ago?" She turned to face her daughter while the replicator produced a mug of coffee. "You've read something Chakotay wrote that has upset you?"

"'This rant'? What do you mean by 'this rant'?"

"I mean this unusual behavior, barging in on me in the middle of the day with a burr under your saddle. It seems to me that you're upset by something." Kathryn sipped the coffee as she headed toward the sofa. "I thought maybe you were read something that upset you in Chakotay's logs."

"I'm just trying to get a perspective on my life, that's all."

"Your life?" She sat down and cradled the mug under her nose. "Or my life and your father's?"

"I just wondered how old I was when they finally called it quits."

Kathryn studied her daughter's tense posture with a pang of remorse. "I can't tell you exactly when it happened, honey. It's been such a long time and they had so many temporary breakups, but I'd guess you were less than two years old."

"Why didn't you two get married then?"

"For one thing, he didn't ask me to marry him." When her joke elicited a glare, Kathryn sighed. "And I was involved with someone else at the time. You remember. Joe Castille."

"Good old Uncle Joe."

"He was good to us, sweetie, and he was tolerant of your mother's prickly ways."

"It didn't last."

"It lasted ten years."

"I'm trying to figure out why, when you had the chance, you and dad didn't get married. It's obvious that you loved each other. I mean, you had a baby together."

Kathryn closed her eyes and wished that she could somehow channel Chakotay's calm attitude and patience in order to resolve their child's questions once and for all. Finally, she opened her eyes and studied Olivia, admiring the way she resembled both of her parents—hard headed and stubborn to the end. "I get the feeling you and Dad discussed this sort of thing more than you and I have."

"He was less—what was the term you used to describe yourself? He was less prickly about it. He was always more emotionally accessible to me."

"Ouch. If it weren't true, I'd be hurt." She took a breath, tried to relax. "Let me lower my shields."

"At long last."

Kathryn's temper flared. "Watch yourself, Olivia. I'm still your mother and I'm not putting up with this insolence much longer."

"Shields back up." Olivia got up and walked to windows on the far side of the office. "Was it because Dad wasn't enough of a blue blood for you?"

Fury flashed through Kathryn; she had to grip the arms of her chair to keep from dashing to the window and shaking some sense into her daughter. "Don't ever," she started, pausing to regain her breath, "don't you ever say anything like that to me again or, by God, I'll have security deposit you outside the front gate so fast your head won't stop spinning for a week."

"He wasn't a blue blood like you. Didn't have generations of Starfleet—"

"Enough!" Kathryn's voice carried all the authority of her rank and experience, and Olivia stopped talking. "If you are going to insult me, you can leave now and come back when you have a civil tongue in your head."

"I'm sorry, Mother, I apologize. It's just that," Olivia brushed a tear from her eye and then choked back a sob, "that I loved him so much, and you so much, that I just don't understand why-"

"Why we didn't love each other just as much as you loved us." She buried her anger beneath the concern she had for her daughter's fragile state of mind. "The love between a parent and child is deep and unconditional. But parents don't always share that kind of bond. While I admired your father very much, we were, after all, just a man and a woman brought together by circumstances."

"He said it was your destiny to be together."

Kathryn sighed and shook her head. "Sweetie, he didn't say that."

Now it was Olivia's turn to be angry. "How do you know what he said or didn't say?"

"Because I know. I'm thinking you read something like that in his logs, and it struck a chord with you. But he was talking about Voyager, the Maquis, and the Delta Quadrant, about all of us, the whole crew, being destined to be together. He didn't say that about the two of us." She waited for a response. "Isn't that right?"

"You can't know that." The blush on Olivia's face told Kathryn that she was right.

"He never said that he and I were destined to be together as a couple."

"Not in so many words, no, but it's consistent with his mystical approach to life."

"In some ways, perhaps."

"How do you know he didn't say that?" She turned to face her mother. "How do you know what he said? Did you read his logs?"

"No, but I knew him better than you did."

"Impossible."

"Not really. That's why you want to ask me questions, because you want to know more about the real Chakotay, about our friendship." She finally rose and went to her daughter, taking her by the shoulders. "You want to know the real me, too, before it's too late."

"Oh, Mom," she cried, throwing her arms around her mother as her body shook with sobs. "I miss him so much."

"So do I, sweetie," she answered, tears in her eyes. "So do I."


	3. Chapter 3

Spring 2416 San Francisco, Kathryn Janeway's apartment

The rain was icy cold by the time Kathryn Janeway finished her daily walk. Chilled to the bone and shivering, she shook the rain out of her umbrella inside the foyer of her apartment building and slid it into one of the plastic sleeves that the janitor left by the door. Even so, she left a trail of water behind her as she walked to the elevator. It would be heaven to replicate a large mug of coffee and slide into a bathtub full of steaming water. This thought is probably what made her inattentive as she shrugged out of her raincoat and hung it and the umbrella just inside her apartment door where they would dry.

A moment later, aware that something was off, she froze, wary. Whether it was a sound or an aroma, she knew that someone was in her apartment.

She toed off her boots and reached into the raincoat's pocket for the type one phaser she carried for protection. Padding silently down the hall, she heard someone rifling through her desk. She took a deep breath and stepped into her study, aiming the phaser at the intruder's back.

"Don't move or I'll shoot."

"MOTHER!" Olivia twirled to face her. "You scared me!"

"Olivia!" Kathryn's arm dropped to her side and the phaser clattered to the floor. Her vision narrowed and she became aware of the fact that her heart was racing.

The next thing Kathryn knew, she was stretched out on the sofa beneath a down comforter. There was a roaring fire in the stone fireplace.

"What happened?" she croaked.

"Oh, you're awake." Olivia appeared from the kitchen bearing a tray. "I made some hot tea."

Kathryn struggled to sit up, but her head was spinning. She let Olivia prop her up with some pillows and then looked with disgust into the mug she handed her. "Tea? Not coffee?"

"The Doctor said no more coffee today."

"The Doctor?" She frowned, the mug halfway to her lips. "The Doctor was here?"

"You fainted, Mom."

"I realize that, but fainting hardly necessitates bothering him."

"He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he says you have spells like this now and then." She paused, studying her mother, taking in her silver hair and the lines around her eyes. "You haven't bothered to tell me that."

Kathryn dismissed the complaint with a wave of her hand. "He's an alarmist. Most people in their eighties have a bout or two of vertigo. I think nearly phasering one's own flesh and blood would rattle anyone."

"Okay, okay. Just keep me informed about your health issues so I'm not blind-sided the way—"

"The way you were with your father. The way we both were." She nodded. "I promise to do better."

"The Doctor also wants you to use the treadmill on days like this. He says that walking in the rain is dangerous and you might break a hip." She grinned at her mother's exaggerated eye roll.

"I checked the weathernet before I left, and I was sure I'd be back before the showers started."

"You must have lingered along the way."

"Maybe so."

"At the cemetery?" Olivia watcher her closely for a reaction.

"I probably just walked slower than usual because of the wet pathway." She sipped her tea, made a face, and pulled the comforter closer.

"The Doctor said to tell you that you don't have to visit 'him' every time you take a walk. When I asked which 'him' he was talking about, he seemed surprised. I didn't know about your habit of visiting Dad's grave."

"That's just romantic fluff, Olivia. The Doctor is silly about it. I walk along the ridge where the cemetery is located because I can see the ocean from there. That's all. It is the main reason I wanted Chakotay's grave there, because it was so wild and beautiful. He would have loved that view."

"The Doctor says you stop at his grave and talk to him."

"He exaggerates."

"Do you? Do you stop and talk to him?"

Kathryn pushed her fingers along a seam in the comforter, smoothing the folds. "I talk to myself, Olivia. So what? Lots of people do that." She raised her eyes and studied her daughter's face. "Maybe you should explain what YOU were doing snooping around my apartment while I was out."

Olivia ignored the question. "That's so sweet! You visit his grave and talk to him!"

"I should change my access codes so you can't just let yourself in when you have some ulterior motive."

"You know, they say you never listened to him or took his advice."

Kathryn arched an eyebrow. "Which 'they' are you talking about?"

"You know. The Voyager crew, mostly."

"They're full of it." She sat up and adjusted the comforter around her shoulders. "Unless you need something, don't let me keep you. I'm going to take a hot bath, eat some hot soup, and go to bed early."

"Dad said you didn't listen to him."

Kathryn sat perfectly still. "He didn't say that, Olivia."

"He said you were too stubborn."

"I am more than willing to concede that fact, sweetie, but I always listened to him, and no one knew that better than he did. I might not have liked what I heard, and we often argued, but I listened. And then I did what I thought was right."

"Why does the crew claim otherwise?"

"You won't like the answer: because your father was an excellent first officer."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"On a starship, especially one that is seventy-five thousand light years from home, the captain is always right."

"You're kidding. No one is always right."

"The captain has to be. Chakotay knew better than anyone that the captain has to be confident, absolutely sure of herself, bigger than life." She laughed. "My authority couldn't be undermined in public, but in private? Oh my God, in private? We had some spectacular fights, and they got personal. Neither of us held back, I promise you that. But once we had our say and the dust settled, once I'd heard him out and made up my mind, he accepted my decisions and convinced the crew that I was absolutely right. Well, maybe there were a few times that he didn't quite pull that off, but he knew best how to handle the crew."

"So you did listen to him?"

"Of course, I did. How could I not listen to him?" She laughed. "He had no fear of my temper and didn't give a damn whether I wanted to hear his opinion or not." Her eyes became unfocused, a small smile on her face. "I don't need to visit his grave to hear his voice."

"Now who's turning mystical?" Olivia sat down beside her mother and took her hand. "Are you really okay?"

"I really am. But, you didn't answer my question. Why are you here, and what were you looking for?"

"I wanted to ask you a question about the day dad died."

"I wondered if the anniversary of his death had something to do with it."

"You were there when he died."

"Yes. You knew that."

"I knew that there were people there—you, Seven, the Doctor, and some of Dad's family."

"That's right."

"But you and dad were alone for the last hour of his life."

"True."

"Did anything happen?"

"I sat there, Olivia, and held his hand. And I told him all the things that I needed to say. He said very little; in fact, I'm not sure he could speak. But, he didn't need to. He'd always been more open about his feelings." She took a deep, calming breath. "It was an honor to be there. Death is an intimate, private event."

"And what about me? Did you talk about me?"

"We both agreed that you were the best thing that ever happened to us."

"He didn't leave me a message? Some last words?"

"Just that he loved you."

"That's all?"

"Isn't that enough?" She squeezed her daughter's hand. "If he'd said anything else, I would have already told you."

"He had to say something."

"He had been heavily sedated, so his mind wasn't always clear." She paused, sensing that her daughter was dissatisfied with the answer. "As I recall, our talk was stark and philosophical. He was facing the unknown, and he had mystical beliefs about that."

"About an afterlife."

"Sweetie, you've read his books and journals. He expressed all of that better than I can hope to."

"And what did he say to you?"

"Well." Kathryn made a face. "What he said to me was private."

"I'm your daughter, not some prying reporter or biographer."

"Even so."

Olivia's eyes widened in disbelief. "You won't tell me?"

"There are some things that can't be shared, things that are simply beyond words. I'm not sure they would even make sense to you. Think about it. Don't you and Greg have private memories and shared beliefs that even your mother has no business knowing? Those should stay between you forever."

"I give up."

"Thank God." Kathryn nodded. "Before you go, perhaps you'd tell me what you were looking for in my study? You were digging through my desk."

"I was leaving you a note."

Kathryn simply stared at her.

"Okay. I was looking to see if I could find a written diary, like Dad's."

"What makes you think I have one? And if I did, it's private and not something you need to see while I'm still alive. After this continuing crisis you are facing after reading your father's papers, I'm thinking I shouldn't leave anything behind."

"I guess I was hoping that you are more open and honest in writing than you have been in person."

"I have been open and honest."

"Your answers seem cryptic, while Dad's writings are clear."

"I haven't read them, but I imagine that they're more cryptic than you know."

"Maybe you should read them."

The older woman shook her head and rubbed her forehead with her hand. "No, I don't need to read them."

Olivia's eyes flared with anger as she knelt down beside her so she could look her in the eye. "It irritates me when you say things like that, Mother, as if everything he wrote was some sort of a puzzle, as if you know better than I what he meant to say."

Kathryn cupped her daughter's cheek and studied her face with eyes filled with love and admiration. Olivia caught her breath, remembering how Chakotay had looked at her this way, his eyes seeing deep into her soul. The connection she felt to her mother at that moment was deeper, more precious than at any other moment she could remember. She was unable to speak. Finally, Kathryn sighed and stood up.

"Sweetie, I'm worn out. The walk and the fainting spell have left me limp as a rag. I'm going to take a hot bath. When I'm finished? Shall we talk some more?"

"When you finish, go to bed and get a good night's sleep. I'll be gone."


	4. Chapter 4

Spring 2417 San Francisco, on the pathway near Kathryn Janeway's apartment

Kathryn Janeway toiled up the path to the bluff that overlooked the ocean, grateful for the balance that her cane offered her. She had been delayed in making her daily walk because of a late morning meeting over subspace, but was grateful for delay that let her feel the heat of the midday sun. Winter remained in the air, and new-fallen leaves were littering the pathway.

When she reached the spot with the most compelling view of the sea, she stopped and activated the "seat" of her multipurpose cane. It was little more than a three-legged stool, but sitting on it gave her a chance to catch her breath and look out toward the horizon. The marker of Chakotay's grave was just behind her.

Her health had faltered in the last year. She tired easily and her legendary ability to concentrate had weakened. In a few weeks, she would do something she'd never thought would happen—she would retire from Starfleet—because of complications from the New Earth virus. It was the same sort of complication that had taken Chakotay's life; somehow, it was fitting that she should succumb to the same disease he had.

She wasn't afraid to die, but she was concerned about Olivia, whether her daughter would find the peace and reconciliation that she needed. She sat for a long while lost in thought, trying to think of a way to give Olivia the sense of closure she needed.

This gift would be the last she would give her daughter, the most crucial of them all.

"There has to be a way," she murmured, glancing toward the headstone. "And you're no help."

Her thoughts went back to the day of Chakotay's death.

_The hospital room was quiet and dark. All but the most basic instruments on the biobed had been deactivated at Chakotay's request. The ones still working were silenced, showing the simplest data, his heartbeat and respiration. _

_They had talked for thirty minutes, on and off, and had said all they needed to say. Now, all that remained between them was a peaceful silence as the medication took away his pain. His death was imminent._

_Kathryn sat beside him and held his hand. Their daughter was light years away and would not arrive in time to join her at the vigil. Chakotay's family and those friends who lived in the area had said their goodbyes and had adjourned to the waiting room down the hall with Seven and the EMH. _

_The Doctor had administered the final palliative dose of medication just before he departed. For the first time in three days, Chakotay was pain free. The drug would shorten his life by a few hours, but the benefit was that he would slip away in peace. _

_Hearing an odd sigh, Kathryn stood to check on him. "How have we grown so old?" she thought, taking in his grey hair and deeply-wrinkled face. "How had his health declined so quickly?" _

"_Hi." His eyes were open and unclouded. It was a moment, perhaps his last moment, of clarity. _

"_Hi, yourself," she replied, smiling at him. "Is there anything you want me to do?"_

"_Stay with me." _

"_Of course." She perched on the edge of the bed. _

"_I'm thinking there is one last thing I should tell you." _

"_Now's the time for it." _

_His eyes softened with affection. "I promised I would never leave you." _

"_New Earth." She blinked back tears. "We became friends there." _

"_I'm not leaving you now, either." _

_Her eyes widened. "You mean spiritually." _

"_You'll know I'm still with you." _

_Now the tears welled in her eyes. "That's good, because I have no intention of letting you go." _

_He smiled. "I'm serious about this, Kathryn." _

"_So am I." _

"_No goodbyes for us. Just a change—." He paused, his eyes losing focus. _

"_Shhhh," she hushed him, caressing his face. "Just a change in the nature of our connection." _

_He nodded, struggled to speak, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips. _

"_I know. I love you, too," she said. _

"_Olivia . . . the best," he whispered. _

"_The best thing we ever accomplished together. I know." She saw the concern in his eyes. "She will miss you, but she'll be fine. I'll help her every way I can." _

_He nodded. His eyes drooped, and she knew he could no longer see her. _

"_Relax, my darling. I'm here." _

"_Kathryn." _

_His last word. _

_She kept her promise. She didn't let him go._

Kathryn was suddenly aware of the rain that had started falling. She was soaked to the skin, and the warm spring day had slipped further into winter. She folded away the seat, pulled her cloak close, and began a careful return to her apartment. By the time she arrived, her teeth were chattering.

"Mother! There you are!" Olivia scolded her. "What are you doing out walking in a cold rain again? Are you trying to get sick?"

Kathryn endured the scolding in silence and allowed her daughter to help her undress and prepare for a hot bath.

"It wasn't raining when I left," she explained, but she did as she was told, sinking gratefully into the hot water and thanking Olivia for the hot tea she brought her.

"Mom, what were you thinking?" Olivia asked later as they sat in the living room before a roaring fire.

"I just wanted to go for my walk, that's all."

"Let me guess—to the overlook by Dad's grave."

Kathryn could think of no reason to lie. "It's my favorite spot."

"Did you commune with his spirit," she teased.

"Yes, of course. What else?"

Olivia shook her head in disbelief. "I think you might have lost your mind."

Kathryn nodded. "So do I."

"You do talk to him, don't you?"

"It would be impolite not to." She laughed at the look on her daughter's face. "No, I don't really hear his voice. But I hear him. I know what he would say."

"And now, Mom? What would he say now?"

"He'd say, 'Give up trying to explain, Kathryn. She's too much your daughter to understand.'"


	5. Chapter 5

Spring 2418 Indiana, the Janeway homestead

"You'll be feeling better soon," Olivia announced as she sat down beside her mother.

"Really? The Doctor told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but-."

"But that's what you heard, because that's what you wanted to hear."

"Mother."

"Don't 'Mother' me. The Doctor knows better than to try to mislead me. I know the truth, and I'm fine with it." She lay back on the pillows and sighed. "I know how difficult it is to face losing someone you love, but it doesn't help to deceive yourself about what's happening."

Olivia brushed away tears with her free hand. "First Dad, then you. I'll be an orphan."

"No you won't. You'll still have us with you, in your memories, in the way you think, your habits, your outlook on life. You're ours, Sweetie, and that will never change."

"But we were never really a family."

"Weren't we?"

"Not really. We never shared a house. You went months at a time without seeing or being with him."

"We talked often, maybe more than you realized."

"Over subspace."

"He seemed closer, somehow."

"Not to me."

Kathryn frowned. "I'm sorry that you missed him so much, but he had to move to Trebus and help his family."

"I wanted more."

"We both gave you all that we could. You are the best thing that ever happened to us—we always agreed on that."

"You didn't plan to have me."

"There are a lot of people out there who arrived without their parents' planning for them." She shifted to face her daughter. "Your father and I loved you. No child was ever cherished more than you were. Never doubt that."

"But you and Dad."

"Were never really a couple, right?"

She nodded in reply.

"Why do you let that haunt you so much?"

"Because I know you would have been happy together."

"We were happy together."

"You weren't together!"

"No! Stop!" Kathryn struggled to her feet, her left leg still uncooperative following the stroke that had nearly killed her a month earlier. "We were partners in every way that counted, Olivia. If we had wanted to change that, we would have done so."

"Why didn't he ask you to marry him?"

"I think he might have been afraid that I would say 'yes.'" She grinned, but sobered when she saw the anger in Olivia's eyes. "You're right, in some ways, about the Delta Quadrant. Too much had happened between us, too many harsh words, too many power struggles, too many obstacles skirted instead of resolved. After seven years of it, too much had happened. We had to find a way to a perfect balance."

"So I would never have been born if it weren't for Quarra." She said it flatly, without emotion.

"Probably not." Kathryn admitted. She walked to the window and looked out at the farm that had been her childhood playground. "We decided not to grieve over the things that couldn't be changed. We moved ahead and cherished the gift that we'd been given, found a way to enjoy what we shared."

"You settled."

"We accepted."

"You gave up."

"We never stopped."

"You limited."

"We opened ourselves to all the possibilities." Kathryn turned to look at Olivia and shook her head. "Perhaps our bond was unique, inexplicable. Probably so. But it was pure and untainted by expectations or demands."

"You were together so little over the years."

"We were never really apart."

"Mother, I don't understand."

"I know you don't, and I'm at a loss to explain it better, except to say that we were true friends, in the best sense of the word. I never let your father go, and he refused to leave me."

"What does that mean?"

Kathryn sighed. "Some relationships defy description."

"So? What? He's with you?"

"Yes, he is."

"And you hear him?"

"Not out loud." Kathryn laughed. "But when you know someone by heart, when you've been through the fire together, when you've opened your eyes to eternity and said, 'So this is how it must be,' there is a peace, and a knowing, that surpasses understanding."

"My God, you're a mystic, too!"

"No, sweetie, I just accept the fact that there are mysteries in this universe that science will never solve."

"So you loved him."

"Sweetie, he was my heart."

"And you were his . . . heart?"

She nodded.

"I don't get it."

Kathryn sighed and glanced upward. "You were right. She's me all over again."

"While he's on the line," Olivia sighed, "tell him I miss him."


	6. Chapter 6

Three months later, after Kathryn's death

Olivia stood at the top of the bluff gazing out at the ocean. Behind her, two headstones glistened in the rain, one for each of her parents. The wind swirled and caught the long cape she wore, tossing it in the air like a flag. On the path behind her, her husband and two children made their way to the apartment building where her mother had lived, alone, for the last two decades of her life.

She was there to say goodbye.

She turned and gazed at the markers and then knelt down between them, putting one hand on her father's marker, the other on her mother's.

"Side by side," she murmured, "together, but apart."

A gust of wind caught her, pushing the hood of her cape back so that she could see the golden sun breaking through the clouds and lining their edges with gold.

"What seems dull and grey, lifeless and dead, can be a shining glory just outside our sight," she said, repeating the words her mother had written just days before her death.

"Mom and Dad, I hope there is an afterlife, so that you two can finally be together in every way," she said, and then laughed. "Who am I kidding?"

She stood and turned toward the wind, opening the cape to the rain-freshened air, thrilling to the power of the life—and the love—that her parents had given her.

"You were always together."

The end


End file.
